The Yew

The wind has sighed upon my leaves
Through many ages passed
A sheltered place for he who grieves
Beneath my branches vast

I reach above towards the sky
`Midst ancient slabs to dwell
O touch me and you yet shall die
Beware the tolling bell

Behold my splendid aspect fixed
Against the falling sun
As there I stand, alone, betwixt
All heav`n and everyone

(Magnificent her posture be
Her shadow softly falls
Upon all those now ever free
Laid down behind stone walls)

Enfolded deep within my boughs
I`ll bear your wearied soul
To carry you, not e`er to rouse,
Then meetly deem you whole

To thus transform and so renew
All set beyond this earth
Deliver each as pure and true
And grant e`erlasting birth

Valerie Dohren ~